


The Message Man

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cute Ending, Dean Prays, Dean Winchester Versus Feelings, Dean is Bad at Feelings, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, On a hunt, Takes Place in s12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 13:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12411000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Seeing as there’s hardly any use for his mojo, Cas gets closer and leans over the hole with his hand outstretched. Dean hooks onto him and Cas secures his arm with his other hand, then slowly pulls him up. It’s like a game of tug of war with Cas in the lead, only, instead of falling face-first into the ground, he lands on top of Cas with an oomph.Dean speaks up first with a smirk: “Guess this is the second time you’re raising me from the Pit.”Title inspired by the lovely twenty one pilots, of course. Who else?





	The Message Man

Dean has been quiet all day.

Cas has left a voice message and a couple texts (if the definition of couple means half a dozen) to check in—not wanting to seem like too much of a bother, but also showing concern for the man’s well-being—with no response.

Dean’s not much of a texting person aside from dropping coordinates on where he and Sam are. Sometimes they’re specific, like that time Dean texted he was under an hour outside of Virginia City, Nevada, home to the Old Washoe Club, the three-story whorehouse-converted bar that’s notorious for spiritual activity. They were at Ponderosa Ranch, where the only spirits are those from _Bonanza_ and Dean was “living out his cowboy fetish”, as Sam put it (and judging by the pictures he sent to Cas of Dean in the middle of the pasture in full gear that they got in Virginia City, even a holster for his very _real_ gun that the local entertainers were fooled by, he would be right).

Other times, _most_ times, they’re vague. _Ballwin, Missouri,_ for example. _Vengeful spirit._

And Cas can’t help it, he worries. They’re professionals, he knows that. But a thousand things run through his mind with a text like that that’s supposed to hold him over until they drive back. He picks up his phone every ten minutes for new notifications. He types and deletes his message. He bookmarks the local Ballwin paper and checks the front page news incessantly because surely brothers of their stature and strangeness to the suburb would stand out if they wound up dead (because even if they killed the local demonic postman, all news is bad news).

Worst of all, Cas worries about Dean’s emotional safety. Nothing is worse for him than sitting in the Bunker, thinking about all of the things that could be going through Dean’s mind when he’s most vulnerable: And that’s when he’s alone. Although Sam may be sleeping next to him and can shake him from a nightmare if need be, considering the boys sleep like cats when they _do_ find themselves dosing off,  but he can’t ease his thoughts. His doubts. His worries. Because Dean thinks he deserves to be punished by all of them. He thinks he deserves to suffer alone.

Many times, he’s found himself in Dean’s room, unbeknownst to the man, reaching out and placing two fingers to the side of his head. It doesn’t cure Dean of his nightmare, whatever that night’s special is, but it eases the heaviness on his chest and regulates his breathing enough for his restless mind to get the message. Cas is learning lot about human psychology. Basically, the body sends a postmarked letter to the mind that reads “DANGER” on the front in big, bolded letters when it tenses up.

And it’s safe to say Dean is tense a _lot._

So when Cas receives a message delivered via Dean FM, he doesn’t wait too long zapping to Ballwin.

Cas opens his eyes and is surrounded by a green field and a violet sky. The grass suspending his Dockers is speckled with drops of dew that shine almost as bright as the stars above his tousled hair. Mingling among the mix in the sky are blue stars. Blue stars burn at temperatures four to six times hotter than the sun, so Cas considers it an honor to be standing beneath them. Once upon a time, Cas burned hot when he fell from grace. Legend has it, he’s still burning.

Cas looks out further and sees headstones for a mile out. There’s more behind him that he doesn’t even see until he hears his name being called in his head. This time louder—like the siren on an ambulance reaching its peak. Dean is close.

Cas doesn’t have to look too far behind him to find a newly desecrated grave. Nearing closer, he sees in the inside right-hand corner farthest from him Dean, knees bent and head against the dirt wall, sending some crumbs into his lap as he cranes it to see Cas.

“Dean? What happened?”

Dean sighs as he stands up and Cas can see the marks on his palms, crusted with even more dirt. “Casper the Vengeful Ghost found a host. One of the security guards I knocked out. Threw me in before I could salt and burn. My lighter went flying, so I’ve just been hanging out with the body. Who on _Earth_ decides to bury their Great Aunt Suzi _eight feet_ underground? Is that even legal?”

“Where’s Sam?”

“Knocked out, I think. She threw him before me.”

Seeing as there’s hardly any use for his mojo, Cas gets closer and leans over the hole with his hand outstretched. Dean hooks onto him and Cas secures his arm with his other hand, then slowly pulls him up. It’s like a game of tug of war with Cas in the lead, only, instead of falling face-first into the ground, he lands on top of Cas with an _oomph._

Dean speaks up first with a smirk: “Guess this is the second time you’re raising me from the Pit.”

“I certainly don’t remember it being this strenuous.”

“You calling me heavy?”

Cas rolls his eyes, but since Dean’s are directly in line with his, he can’t roll them too far. Dean’s smirk falls as he licks his lips. Cas tracks the movement before Dean is thrown off him. Cas jumps back to see the security guard pinning Dean to the ground by his neck.

It doesn’t take long for Cas’s eyes to glow a blinding blue that spreads to the palm of his hand. He uses it as a flashlight to look around him frantically. “C’mon, c’mon,” he mumbles. He shoots his head to Dean, whose extended hands and arms are starting to cave into him. He whips his head back to the task at hand, and a few seconds later, turns up with the lighter. He opens it, gives it a flick, and throws it into the grave. The outline of the ghost flies out of the security guard’s back, his vessel falling deadweight to the other side of Dean like a stunned rat.

Cas powers down upon rushing over to Dean’s equally morbid-looking state. After a moment, though, he opens his eyes and Cas is treated yet again to those greens—but not before Dean lurches forward to hack up a lung. “I’m fine,” he insists when Cas tries holding him steady, glancing at the security guard. “Is he okay?”

Cas moves to take the guy’s pulse. As he guessed, stunned. He brings his two fingers to the guy’s forehead. “Now he will be. He’ll wake up with no recollection of what happened.”

“Okay… good,” Dean breathes, “and Sam? Where’s Sam?”

As if on a timer, Sam groans to alert his presence. He’s on the other side of them, slumped against a tree. Or at least Cas _hopes_ it’s Sam, because all he sees at that distance is the outline of a large blob. “Ugh, here,” he pipes up, albeit weakly.

Dean sighs, throwing his body back into what was the grass and now is his lumpy motel bed. “Godda—uh,” he grumbles, clutching the pillow as he rolls over, “whatever, I’m too tired to argue.”

“Dean.”

“Cas,” he mocks.

“Dean,” Cas repeats, flipping the lamp light on the nightstand beside him. Dean throws his head back, blinking, and mumbles something Cas, with his extraterrestrial hearing, chooses _not_ to hear. “I know why you really prayed to me.”

Dean’s bleary eyes rise like an early sunrise with slow, calculated movements. “I didn’t pray to you.”

“Dean. Please.”

“Okay, maybe I prayed for you to help me out, but only because Sam was...” Dean turns his head to his comatose brother on the other bed. “And still _is_ toast. Nothing else.”

Cas inclines his head a little. “No. I mean, yes, that was the initial message.”

Dean gulps with the carefulness of someone swallowing a handful of vitamins. Or, by the way Dean’s face is tensing up, a handful of poison. He looks at Cas like he’s both the person who holds the antidote and the one who poisoned him.

“Dean, it’s okay,” he says with a small smile, moving to sit on the edge of Dean’s bed. “I’m not accusing you. It’s a good feeling to have. It’s what keeps us going.” He pauses, lowering his head. His smile wavers slightly still seeing Dean’s tight features: The proximity of his eyebrows and his squared-off gold-speckled eyes and jaw. “I’m just making sure _you_ know that.”

Dean sits up a little before folding his arms over his broad chest. “Of course I do,” he contends, “I mean, I feel that way about Sam. And Mom.”

“And me.”

Dean folds his arms in tighter. “Yeah, man, and you.”

“You didn’t think I would show, did you?”

“What?”

“You didn’t think I would show,” Cas says. “You thought perhaps I was too busy with the Kelly case, so you told me… you told me you loved me when you thought I wasn’t listening.”

“Of course I thought you’d show,” Dean testifies, “how else would I have gotten out of there?”

“You would’ve found a way. If it means finding a way to avoid _physically_ talking about your feelings, you would’ve broke your arms trying to climb your way out of that hole.” Cas pauses. “I know you, Dean. Like you said, I _did_ raise you from the grave once before.”

Dean uncrosses his arms, but uses one to scrub his hand down his mouth. “Okay. So say there’s _some_ truth to this… why did you come if you knew I could’ve handled it?”

“You’re vain, you know that?”

Dean blinks a few times. “Excuse me?”

“You’re vain,” Cas reiterates, scoffing. “You think you’re the only one who has feelings around here? I love you too, you ass.”

Dean’s mouth parts slow like honey dripping down its upside down container. It’s certainly not far from how he looks: Upside down, the color rapidly draining from his face. “You… you love me?”

“Dean, my mission has always been you,” Cas says. “I fell _because_ of you.”

“Jeez, way to make a girl feel special.”

Cas laughs a little.

“So,” Dean starts carefully, climbing out of bed to face Cas fully, “you wanna seal this deal or not?”

Cas narrows his eyes before he realizes. “Right. There’s no trade-off though, right? You’re not going to trade your life for Sam’s? Because I’m not raising you twice.”

Dean scoffs, “Jesus, Cas. Thanks for making me feel _really_ special. No, I have a different proposal.”

“Go on.”

“How’s about I kiss you _if_ you promise to kiss me for ten more years after this?”

Cas shakes his head. “Why ten?”

“I’m a hunter, Cas, I’m actually being optimistic about my life span.”

“Okay,” Cas agrees with a smile, opening his arms to gesture. “You know what to do.”

Cas has watched the first Neanderthal art piece be created, has seen Jupitar through Galileo’s telescope, and has even witnessed the takeoff of Amelia Earhart’s plane… but everything blanches in comparison to Dean’s mouth. Cas feels, more than ever, human, and this is _his_ discovery: the smell of his aftershave, the taste of whisky still burning on Dean’s tongue, the sound of the soft moan that escapes him, the feel of his calloused but strong hands gripping his trenchcoat…

“Well finally.”

They both break apart without favor to the other brother who _was_ sleeping.

“Sam, do you mind?” Dean groans.

“Actually I do, but since I’m in a lot of pain, I’m just going to roll over and pray I die for a few hours.” And that’s exactly what he does. (Well, minus the dying part.)

 

 

Dean’s not much of a texting person—or a talking person in general. But the next night, when they’ve returned safely to the Bunker, Cas, who’s sitting in his bed watching reruns of _The Wire_ on his laptop _,_ receives a text message from none other than the eldest Winchester:

**_I love you too, by the way._ **

Cas just shakes his head and looks up at Dean standing in the doorway with an equally wide smile.

 

 


End file.
